


Monopoly

by birdcages7



Series: For Life [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Monopoly (Board Game), Roleplay, Steve has the worst luck, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26459932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdcages7/pseuds/birdcages7
Summary: Oh, Billy had several ideas of what they could possibly do. But he was still trying to make a good impression. This was the longest kind of relationship he’d been in. Hell, after a month it has been the longest. He didn’t want to lose what they had, whatever it was. It was nice. So, instead of dragging his maybe-boyfriend-but-not-really-there-yet-kind-of to bed, like any sane person would do, Billy suggested they play monopoly instead.***Part Three: Game Night
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: For Life [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870363
Comments: 6
Kudos: 106





	Monopoly

_ “How are you so fuckin’ bad at this?” Billy asked, damn near howling as Steve picked out another chance card that landed him straight back in jail. _

***

They’d been dating for around three months, give or take a week or two. Steve still lived in the city, in a swanky penthouse his family owned, but he hated it and never let Billy over to see it. He’d spent nearly every weekend instead at Billy’s small apartment; where the water either ran boiling hot or ice cold without a moment's warning, where there was a really weird stain on the wall in the closet that neither could work out if it was old blood from the murder of a previous tenent or just strange mold, where his eastern European neighbours homebrewed vodka in their bathtub and left small bottles as gifts on the joint fire escape for playing weird electronic music too loud at all hours of the night.

Billy had tried it once, the first time it appeared just after he’d moved in as a silent housewarming stroke apology gift. It was worse than paint thinner, but  _ fantastic _ for getting his hands clean of engine oil and grease at the end of a long day so it was never refused.

It was nice though, knowing he’d finish work on Friday and Steve would be knocking on his door first thing Saturday morning, with his small but very expensive looking leather overnight bag slung over one shoulder. Sometimes he brought breakfast. Sometimes he  _ was _ breakfast. It was also a strange comfort that Steve wanted to come over so badly. The city was at least two hours away, and he’d always arrive by nine, dressed like he’d been up for hours before even attempting the drive. 

It was nice.

They didn’t hold hands in public yet, or call each other pet names like their straighter counterparts might, but they still went and did things together. Went on walks through the park, got ice cream at the mall, fooled around in the darkness of the movies because everyone did that no matter who’s pants you hand your hand down or even that it was a midday matinee, wandered around the fish section of the pet store because the aquarium was closed for some reason. Billy remembers Steve laughing at him because he called a spotted grey fish getting spat on with sand ‘a little bitch’. Steve had just wiggled his eyebrows, pulled off the most perfect nonchalant shrug with an expertly heated look at Billy through the tank and said “I dunno Bill, maybe it  _ likes _ being spat on.”

It was nice.

This particular weekend Steve just wanted to relax. He’d said so over the phone Thursday night, when they usually called each other to work out what was happening with their days off, not that they really needed to anymore. He was up to his neck in work and just wanted a super easy time so he didn’t have to worry about a meeting he had Monday morning. Billy could do that. He’d finished early Friday to clean the place up a bit, rented some movies he thought they’d both like and was more than content to spend the whole weekend inside. He liked his apartment after all, that’s why he lived there. That and the rent was cheap because nothing really worked correctly or all the time or, like the one power outlet in the hallway, at all. Swings and silver linings and all that.

Steve had turned up on his doorstep first thing Saturday morning, worry and stress heavy around his eyes, body slumped like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Maybe it was. He didn’t talk a whole lot about work. Just that it was a lot sometimes. Working for family apparently made everything harder. Billy had sighed softly and pulled him inside like a homeless cat, made them both breakfast on his tiny stove with two working burners, both at the back. Steve had gone off to go change like he usually did. He always looked professional on arrival, like he lived in nothing but suits and khakis and polos, was still putting up an appearance for the outside world, but changed pretty much straight away once he knew it was okay too. Had claimed two of Billy’s old threadbare shirts he just had for sentimental reasons as his own. It was kind of hot to see someone who was usually so upstanding and proper flop down in a creaky orange dining chair wearing just gym shorts, socks and a stretched out Motley Crue shirt with a hole in the armpit. Especially since all of those things, aside from the socks, were Billy’s.

It was nice.

The day had been as relaxing as Steve needed it to be. By the time night fell the worry lines on his face had melted away. They were sharing spaces on Billy's lumpy brown couch, watching the first of the two movies he’d picked out: Road House.

Did Billy have a little bit of a crush on Patrick Swayze? Maybe. Was he ever going to admit it? No. Was it obvious anyway? Probably startlingly so, but still.

The power in the apartment died just as Mr Swayze was going through  _ the rules _ . They both slowly looked up at the light in the ceiling. They sat close together but not in each other’s laps, Billy had his feet up on the coffee table that was littered with inherited cigarette burns, a couple open cans of beer and a half empty popcorn bowl. Steve was far too polite and raised properly to take up the same position, he sat with his long legs crossed at the ankles underneath the low piece of furniture instead. With a sigh Billy heaved himself up to go check the fuse breakers, clicking them off and on a couple of times with no success. Usually that did the trick.

“I think the whole street’s out…” Steve remarked from the window, having gotten up and crossed the three steps from couch to wall to investigate, his head completely outside to see the world below.

“Shame,” Billy muttered, coming to stand alongside his maybe boyfriend, they hadn’t had that discussion yet, poking his head out of the window as well into the cold night air, hips bumping together. Steve had been right though. It looked like the whole block was dark. That was unusual. “I was just gettin’ into that.”

“I know,” Steve smirked hot. “I could see how  _ into it  _ you were getting as soon as he started up that fucking Buick.”

Billy shrugged cool, leaned more on the window frame with his elbows, tried to play off that his dick didn’t twitch just a little in his shorts at that reveal. A 1965 Buick Riviera was a stunning car. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about…” 

He left the playful interrogation after an accusatory  _ uh huh _ to go light some candles dotted around the place. Billy liked candles. There was something about handling such a raw destructive element that appealed to him. A therapist would probably tell him how that related to his childhood trauma, about being powerless and wanting to burn the world down just to dance in the ashes to regain some form of control over his life, but he didn’t need a therapist to tell him that. He didn’t have many candles and none of them had a scent. Just tealights sitting on coasters and chipped side plates he’d picked up from god knows where. They were also useful because his power tended to die about once a month, and he liked not knocking his shins into the furniture in the dark.

Steve flipped himself around at the last candle, the last click of the zippo he always had on him. The room flickered in shadows. “Now what?”

Oh, Billy had several ideas of what they could possibly do. But he was still trying to make a good impression. This was the longest kind of relationship he’d been in. Hell, after a month it has been the longest. He didn’t want to lose what they had, whatever it was. It was nice. It was nice Steve coming over every weekend. It was nice just hanging out and watching tv, ordering take out and having someone to curl into bed with even if it was just for a couple nights a week. It was nice knowing Steve’s home number by heart to just call if and whenever he wanted to, even just to leave a stupid joke on his professional sounding voicemail. It was nice seeing his toothbrush next to Billy’s in the plastic cup on his bathroom sink. Red and purple. He didn’t want Steve to think even for a second he was just in this for a quick and easy lay. He was past that point in his life now, was growing to learn that repetitive lays with the same person was a lot more fun.

So, instead of dragging his maybe-boyfriend-but-not-really-there-yet-kind-of to bed, like any sane person would do, Billy suggested they play monopoly instead.

In his defence it was a relic from the past. A memory of Max and her girl gang of nerds having sleepovers at the house on Neil and Susan's date nights out of town. A memory where he was forced one way or another to be babysitter. There was only so many viewings of Sixteen Candles he could take before even fucking  _ monopoly _ sounded like a great idea, even if he was playing against a bunch of girls. And he was never allowed to be banker. And they played with all these crazy cutthroat rules that somehow made the game kinda fun.

  1. No straight buying a property, everything has to be auctioned.
  2. All community fees sit at free parking, whoever lands on free parking first keeps all the money accumulated to that point.
  3. No rent collection in jail. 
  4. No tears. We’re ladies damnit!



They’d played it more than just when her weird friends were round. It just became something they did when alone in the house for a few precious hours, where the tension wasn’t razor sharp and the floor wasn’t made of broken glass and eggshells. Where they both weren't trying to hide who they really were. When they were both trying to be better and get on. She’d tucked the boardgame into his stuff before saying goodbye on July 5th 1985. He didn’t realise until he’d found a place and finally unpacked the truck of his car. There was a note taped to the inside of the box with bandaids and glitter stickers.

_ For when we can play again. _

Steve regarded him with a strange look at the initial suggestion, like Billy was joking, but it quickly faded when he realised it was a serious one.

“I’ve... never actually played before…” Steve said honestly, maybe a little sadly, and in Billy’s mind that was it settled. Everyone had to play at least once in their lives. He retrieved the game from the closet with the weird stain, and a couple more beers from the fridge, and set it up on the coffee table, sitting in one corner of the couch while Steve took up the other. 

The first few goes around the board were nothing special. Billy kept to his and Max’s house rules, playing with normal rules just seemed boring by comparison. Steve picked up the flow pretty quickly, they were simple enough rules to follow.

Billy made him be the top hat. Because he was rich. Of course he picked the car for himself.

The auctioning was pretty interesting. Considering buying properties and land was kind of Steve’s job, Billy had expected him to be, well, good at it. Put up a fight and play hardball. Instead he got excited and always bid way over the initial asking price. Billy wanted to point out that he wouldn’t have the money to buy houses and hotels if he kept doing that, but bit his tongue for two reasons. One, he was competitive. Just because he liked Steve a hell of a lot didn’t mean he was about to let the man taking up the other side of his couch wearing his clothes just  _ win _ . It didn’t work like that. Two, he liked seeing Steve happy. It wasn’t that Steve was unhappy whenever Billy saw him, whenever he stayed the weekend or whenever they spoke on the phone, but there was something in his voice. A small something that sounded far away sometimes that Billy knew all too well, had spent his life wrapped up in and was now working very hard to be untangled from.

They say that broken people recognise each other after all.

So if buying Electric Company for $250 made Steve happy, if only for a little while, then so be it. Billy wasn’t going to be the one to diminish that good feeling.

The game sure was though.

Billy had played enough to form a strategy, one that Max could see right through every time, but that Steve had no idea about. He didn’t know that buying up everything from St. James Place to Illinois Avenue made that corner a lethal weapon. He didn’t know that buying up Park Place and Boardwalk was essentially worthless unless you had the money to build on them. He didn’t know that paying anything more than asking price for a railroad was pointless, especially if your opponent had the last one and was not about to trade it away.

It was also unfortunate that Steve was seemingly a born natural at throwing doubles. Everyone knows that three doubles in a row equals jail.

The first couple of times Steve accepted it, but then his own competitive streak started to come forward and take hold like some kind of demon that had been buried deep deep down but was now being allowed to surface with abandon. His cheeks went red, his soft eyes became alert, panicked even, as his luck at rolling doubles died the second he needed them most and was forced to pay his way out each time. Billy could really only sit back and watch as Steve worked himself into a hole, watch his money dwindle away with every turn, landing on well built up oranges and reds each time but getting nothing in return sitting in jail.

Billy almost wanted to cut him some slack.  _ Almost _ .

Without the aid of alcohol it had the potential to become aggressive. Billy would certainly hate to have such a run of bad luck.

Pulling that second chance card was the last straw. Go straight to jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.

Billy howled. Howled at the bad luck after bad luck after bad luck. Doubled over at Steve's face, holding the card like it was a death sentence, like he was being sent to jail for the chair for real. The angry red drained from his cheeks, eyes wide like the world was playing a cruel trick.

He was down to $18. He couldn't buy his way out. Not this time.

"How are you so fuckin' bad at this?" Billy asked through tears of tipsy laughter. He wasn't laughing at Steve, wasn't poking fun at the man who made his heart flutter everyday, he was just laughing at his terrible luck. At the fact that he was so terrible at playing a game version of something he did everyday, a game version of his  _ job _ . It was the equivalent of a doctor being terrible at Operation.

"This is fucking rigged!" Steve huffed playfully, putting his hat back in the jail square with a little pout. "You planned this Hargrove!"

"Oh yeah, I  _ totally _ dug this dumb thin' outta the closet before you got here and  _ totally _ planned a block wide power outage so you'd have'ta play. And before you ask, I ain't sellin' you my get outta jail free cards."

Steve scolded across the small space between them on the couch like a brat. Billy had noticed that expression a couple of times, usually in quick flashes when things weren't exactly going Steve's way. Like now. He'd already mortgaged every property he had left.

"Well I'm not going bankrupt," he muttered, staring intently at the board, potentially thinking up a plan of attack. But really, there wasn't one. It was loose or loose. There were no other options. "I'll give you my watch."

Billy blinked at that offer, eyes dragged to the aforementioned device. It was a nice watch around his slender wrist. An Omega. A gold face with teal detailings, roman numerals instead of numbers, a chunky metal strap. It clearly looked like some kind of company or graduation gift. For a small moment Billy actually considered it, but he shook that thought away.

"You know how dirty that thin' would get with me? Also you wanna offer me your  _ actual watch _ to get outta  _ board game jail? _ This ain't poker. Ya’ know, you could just forfeit..." Billy suggested with a grin, hot and wicked. It made Steve scowl just that little bit more, frown lines setting deep across his forehead.

"You know that's not an option…" It was a few moments of silence before a look flashed through his eyes. Turned his scowl and bratty behaviour into a cool smirk. "You know, if you just let me win, I'll make it worth your while…"

"Oh yeah? How?" In Billy's mind there was nothing Steve could offer or do that would cause him to throw the game. Nothing. But he was just thinking purely about what could happen within the confines of the board and the rules. He didn't expect Steve, the man who made his heart flutter and came over every weekend without fail, to drop his eyelids and set his already quite deep voice a whole pitch lower. To slowly lick his lips and say:

"Surely there's gotta be something a fella stuck in jail can do for you."

_ Oh _ .

Well, Billy might just abandon winning for  _ that _ . He swallowed a little thickly and switched his attention to this new game unfolding before his eyes, trying to pick it up on the spot without knowing the rules.

"Well, like what?" He tried to seem unbothered, as calm as possible, but his heart was already beginning to grow quicker in his chest. For as long as he lived Billy would never grow tired of seeing lust take over Steve's expressions. Of his eyes turning almost black, of his coy little smile and occasional lip biting, of the way he just knew how to use his hands and move his body.

It could be love. But maybe not quite yet. That was a big word filled with bigger consequences. What was happening now was nice. And neither seemed ready for a wider discussion. Just happy to let things develop and see what grew naturally.

For now Steve slipped off the couch gracefully, knees hitting the floor as he moved between Billy’s legs, slipping his long fingers under the cuffs of Billy’s shorts with no protest. The air around them became thick all of a sudden as Steve moved forward and nuzzled Billy’s cock hidden away under a thin layer of fabric in such a slow but calculated move. He breathed hot along the quickly growing length, practically encouraging its hardness with his nose. But it was the look that made Billy weakest. Steve staring up at him, not even trying to play innocent. So clearly just wanting a dick in his mouth.

“Please. I’ll do  _ anything _ mister...” Steve started placing kisses over the forming tent. Hot and firm. It was hard to play it cool in a moment like this. Billy reached down and thumbed over Steve’s plump bottom lip. It was kissed and licked and pulled into Steve’s mouth, gently suckled.

“Well, I guess just this once, we can call it a draw…” Billy offered, already feeling just a touch lightheaded with how fast seemingly all the blood in his system was rushing down. Steve grinned around the thumb and let it go with a soft pop, moved his hands from the cuffs to the waistband, pulling the shorts down just enough to tuck it behind Billy’s balls, letting his cock spring hard into the open air. It felt so much more crude that it was. It was amazing. Steve hummed in what could be appreciation, kept his hands bunched in the material still covering Billy’s thighs and kissed the head of Billy’s cock, all hard and proud between them. Billy sank back a little into the corner, just willing to enjoy this. To watch Steve on his knees and feel his warm mouth taking down more and more, inch by inch sinking into that perfect feeling.

Steve Harrington really was made for sucking dick.

Billy’s hand found its way into his hair towards the back of his neck, not angling or pushing, just letting dark strands get tangled in his fingers as Steve’s head started bobbing, tongue pressed up firm against hard flesh and working all the spots that made Billy’s knees feel weak. That sent jolts and shivers to his toes and up his spine. That made his dick kick on that masterful tongue like his body was asking for more without words, Steve closed his eyes, clearly getting into it, humming softly and moaning from his throat whenever Billy’s crown would rub up against his soft palate. He was an angel in Billy’s lap. A masterclass to be studied. Letting things get wetter and wetter until slick sounds permeated the air. Until Billy felt warm drool drip down to his balls as it leaked from the corner of Steve’s perfect lips. Every head bob pulled Billy down deeper, just a little, flooded all common sense out of his mind so all that existed was how good it felt to be swallowed down like this. Steve’s hands left the shorts and worked their way to rest on Billy’s stomach, palms flat and wide like he was bracing himself. It just made Billy feel bigger, like he could do some actual damage, like Steve was desperate but had to hold back for fear he would hurt himself. Jesus, the guy was good.

The impending orgasm hit Billy quicker than he was ready for. It was like he’d been punched in the gut with the sudden force of having to hold back, if only for a moment. Long enough to gently tug Steve’s hair as a warning, try and speak out through garbled moans. Steve got the hint though, moved his head back and looked Billy directly in the eye as he just held his tongue out, tip barely touching but the image was enough. Was more than enough. Billy came with a deep groan, his balls pulling tight as he shot over that masterful tongue, up against that velvety soft palate, the corner of flushed red lips. Steve moaned in appreciation, gently working his tongue right there, right on the ridge, at Billy’s weakest point in his weakest moment and he felt like he was about to black out it was so much all of a sudden.

Steve’s swallow was more than audible when he moved back completely, slick lips pressing kisses to Billy’s knee purposely, eyes again turned upwards but now innocent and coy. “Am I good to go?”

Fuck it drove Billy wild.

He moved to stand on shaky legs, bent down to scoop Steve up in his arms like he didn’t weigh anything at all. The taller man giggled next to Billy’s ear as he started carrying them off to the bedroom.

“Where are we going mister?” Oh, Steve still wanted to play. Well, Billy was more than okay with that. He liked this new game a lot.

“Just gotta make sure you’re a fully reformed citizen. Gonna need a  _ deep _ examination for that.” 

Steve let out a little moan, hooking his legs more up around Billy’s wide hips, their board game sitting abandoned on the coffee table. “Oh I hope so...”

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr page.](https://bird-in-a-cage.tumblr.com/) Come ask me stuff! Headcannons more than welcome!


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